


Glass Heart Menagerie

by Elri



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elri/pseuds/Elri
Summary: When Crowley's in a weird mood, Aziraphale tries his best to help





	1. Prologue

It had been a few weeks since the end of world that didn’t happen. Aziraphale and Crowley had returned to London to settle into their new lives free from memos and expectations and the lingering knowledge in the back of their heads that at any moment someone might decide to check in on them. It seemed their performance with the identity swap had done the trick as there hadn’t been any hint of Heaven or Hell sniffing anywhere around them or Tadfield. Aziraphale had been staying in touch with Anathema and Newt, calling just to see how they were doing and to talk with Anathema about Agnes Nutter’s book. He had been thrilled to discover her extensive knowledge of the rarest book in the world. Once she’d realized his interest was purely academic, she’d shipped him the family’s notecards and put him in touch with her mother to get more about the history. That had proved more difficult to accomplish, given Aziraphale’s general avoidance of modern technology that made him easier to find, but he’d finally caved and agreed to get an outdated computer with a webcam attachment solely for the purpose of talking to Mrs. Device. Crowley had come over to help him install it and if it had a few updated features that shouldn’t have been there given the usual capabilities of a computer of that age well, no one else was there to be any the wiser.

Other than that, things stayed about the same as they had always been. Both angel and demon had grown somewhat fond of performing their miraculous or (vaguely) demonic tasks over the millennia and didn’t particularly feel like not doing any of it ever again, especially now that they had all the time in the rest of the world. They spent more time walking around London together, taking in the city without giving the slightest hint of a fuck who noticed them. They stepped out of their comfort zones, trying out new restaurants they hadn’t been to countless times before; Crowley hung out at a corporate social event without causing trouble (no one noticing that he didn’t actually work at that company); Aziraphale actually sold some books.

As the summer drew to a close and they slowly got more at ease with the idea that they had, in fact, stopped the apocalypse, they decided to celebrate properly with copious amounts of alcohol. Aziraphale closed up the shop for the day (after spending an entire regular business day open!) and they took their booze to the back room. Between the two of them they got through two bottles of fine vintage wine and most of a bottle of rum that Crowley had brought from his personal collection. Caught up in the excitement of the moment, they let themselves get a bit carried away and ended up passing out on Aziraphale’s couch.


	2. Scales

When Aziraphale woke up in the morning, taking a moment to miracle away his hangover, he found himself alone in the back room. A bit perplexed, he called Crowley, frowning more when the answering machine picked up.

“Hello Crowley, it’s me. I hope everything’s alright; I don’t remember everything that happened last night but I only had a bit of a headache this morning. Please call back when you can, I’ll be here.”

About half way through the day, around the time when they might have been going to get lunch, Aziraphale had still heard nothing. He sat looking between the phone and the door, fingers tapping rapidly against the desk, for about five minutes before making another call. Once again, the answering machine picked up.

“Crowley, it’s me again, I’m running out for an errand and am going to stop by your place. I’ll see you shortly.”

There was no answer when Aziraphale rang Crowley’s doorbell. He pressed it a few more times, knocking for good measure, then tried the knob. It wasn’t locked, he didn’t need to miracle his way in. The door at the end of the entry hall was open, showing Crowley’s office. It too was empty, with only a small pile of papers on the desk. A quick glance revealed pages showing various places in space, Alpha Centauri on the top. Aziraphale pushed past the pang of guilt to continue his investigation of the flat.

He didn’t have far to look; passing through the plant hall, he got almost to the end before a slight movement of leaves caught his attention. Turning back and crouching down, Aziraphale saw, wrapped around the base of one of the bigger plants, a familiar black and red form he hadn’t seen in some time.

“Crowley? Is that you?”

The snake slithered around until his head poked out over his body. His tongue flicked out, like a half-hearted greeting, but otherwise he stayed silent.

“Is something wrong?” Getting no response, Aziraphale gently reached out in his mind, trying to make a connection, but was met with resistance. “Well, at least now I know you’re definitely in there. Look I…I’m not sure what’s going on, and I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but I don’t like the idea of just leaving you here like this. Why don’t you come back to the shop with me, I can turn on a lamp for you in the back.”

Aziraphale reached out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Crowley slithered forward to wrap himself up and around Aziraphale’s arm, disappearing under his sleeve. Once Aziraphale was certain Crowley had settled in around his shoulders, he left the flat and headed back to the shop. As promised, Aziraphale brought one of his desk lamps over to the couch, angling it to shine directly onto the cushion that he coaxed Crowley onto.

“I’ll be just out front if you need anything. Feel free to slither around the shelves but do try not to scare anyone, don’t want a bunch of official people showing up to try and tell me how to take care of my snake.” Aziraphale patted Crowley on the head gently, smiling as the forked tongue flicked out again.

The rest of the day flew by quietly. It wasn’t until Aziraphale went to close up the shop for the night that he realized he’d forgotten to turn the sign back around to OPEN in his haste to get Crowley to the shop. A quick glance around the shop didn’t reveal any scaly movements, and sure enough Crowley was still curled up in the lamplight.

“I don’t really know how to take care of snakes,” Aziraphale said, sitting down on the other side of the couch carefully so he didn’t disturb Crowley. Nonetheless, as soon as he was seated, Crowley slithered over and up to rest around Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale brought his hand up and absentmindedly started petting Crowley’s head. “I know you’re not a regular snake, but I’d still like to make sure you’re comfortable. I’ll stop by the library tomorrow, see if I can find something to help. I’d go to a pet store but I’ve heard enough people complain about how they treat the fish I’d rather not risk it. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?” He looked at Crowley, but got only a tongue flick in response. “No, I suppose not. Well I’m going to stay here and read; I’ll turn the light off so you have a cool spot to go to if you need it.”

Aziraphale picked up the book he’d started the other night, holding it up so that Crowley could see it if he wanted to. Normally it wasn’t unusual to have some silence between them, but this time it felt wrong. Knowing that Crowley couldn’t-wouldn’t, really-speak up left an unsettled feeling in Aziraphale’s heart. He started quietly telling Crowley about the story, an old tale about two lovers who each longed for the other but neither knew. Once he’d caught up to where he’d left off, he started reading the book out loud to Crowley.

They spent the night like that. In the morning, Aziraphale made a cup of tea for himself and put some in a saucer for Crowley. He went ahead and opened the store as usual, letting Crowley stay draped around his neck and shoulders. The few customers that came in tended not to realize he was there unless he moved; the reactions ranged from scared shitless, despite Aziraphale’s assurances that he was harmless, to absolutely adoring and asking to hold him, a request Aziraphale politely declined when Crowley hissed at the idea. None of the customers remembered seeing a snake once they left the shop; as Aziraphale had said, there was no need to draw attention.

Aziraphale closed the shop early again so he could get to the library before it closed. He left Crowley on the couch, explaining in response to the very pissy hissing that while yes, most people probably wouldn’t bother to look too close, there was much too much risk involved in carrying a snake around London. Besides, he added as he fluffed up the cushion, it was getting rather nippy out and it was much easier for Crowley to keep his temperature regulated in the shop.

“I’ll be back soon, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”


	3. Fur

Aziraphale returned from the library after a quick stop at a local reptile shop for a proper heating pad. A quick look in the back room showed Crowley was nowhere to be found, but he could still sense the snake somewhere in the shop. Resigned to let Crowley be a little passive-aggressive, Aziraphale set up the heating pad on the couch and put out a little saucer of milk on the table instead of tea. He settled in on the couch to read, sitting so he wasn’t directly facing the saucer or the pad but could still see them without having to turn his head.

About an hour later, Aziraphale had made it through maybe three pages waiting for Crowley to appear. Sudden movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he waited, staying absolutely still, until a dark shape jumping up onto the table startled him.

“Crowley?”

“Mrrow.”

“Well this is certainly different. I wish I’d known, I could’ve picked up some fish for you at the shops.”

“Mrrooow.”

“Now there’s no need to take that tone with me, I have plenty of sausage from this morning, you’ll have to settle for that.”

Crowley huffed and went back to lapping at the milk. Now that Aziraphale got a good look, he could see that Crowley’s fur wasn’t totally black. There were some reddish patches on his head and belly, not unlike his scales in snake form. It was very tempting to reach out and pet him, but Aziraphale didn’t want to cross any boundaries, so he sat back and turned his attention to his book.

Either Crowley got bored of being ignored or his cat instincts got abruptly much stronger because after a minute or so of drinking the milk he looked down at the saucer, tail swishing and started pawing at it. Aziraphale looked up just in time to see Crowley tip over the saucer and spill milk all over the table and onto the floor. The cat himself scrambled off the table with a yowl, darting under the couch and away from the puddle.

“I’m not sure what you were expecting,” Aziraphale gently chided. He miracled up some paper towels and cleaned up the mess on the table and floor, waving a hand to get the milk out of the carpet. Once that had been taken care of, he knelt down and looked under the couch at the still cowering cat, “You can come out now, it’s all cleaned up.”

“Mrrooow.”

“It’s alright, you’re not going to get your paws wet, and nothing’s been damaged. Won’t you come out?”

“Miaow.”

Aziraphale got up and sat back down on the couch. After a long moment, Crowley emerged from under the couch and hopped up onto it. He spent some time casually licking his paws and doing some minor grooming, apparently trying to act like nothing had happened and he wasn’t bothered. When he was satisfied with his cleanliness, he pushed up under Aziraphale’s arm, inserting himself very obtrusively onto the angel’s lap where he proceeded to knead biscuits in a circle until he was satisfied and curled up into a ball to purr. Aziraphale once again started absentmindedly petting Crowley’s head, gently rubbing behind his ears and down his neck and back as Crowley’s purrs got louder. At some point, the purrs faded out to heavy breathing when Crowley fell asleep.

“I wish you would tell me what’s going on,” Aziraphale said softly, still running his fingers through Crowley’s fur. “This isn’t like you. I know we haven’t always been great at talking about serious things…actually I don’t know if we’ve ever been good at it…but nevertheless we are friends, and I hope you know that you can tell me anything. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

When Aziraphale opened the shop in the morning, he put a sign in the window notifying customers to please mind the cat. Crowley opted to roam about more than he had as a snake, following patches of sunlight around the shelves to sleep in. At one point, when he’d climbed up on top of some books, Aziraphale took to telling customers that, most regrettably, the particular book they were looking for was in the section the cat was sitting on, and it was imperative not to disturb the esteemed shelf cat, Anthony J. Crowley. He’d thought about making up a name with a pun in it, like Claude, but ultimately decided that Anthony J. Crowley, when said in full every time, was perfectly suitable as a cat name.

Cat owners or even just cat lovers tended to agree with him, as they were all delighted by Anthony J. Crowley. Many pulled out their phones to share pictures of their own cats, ranging from adorable kittens to cats so ugly they were absolutely lovable. After the first few times Aziraphale had aww’d at another cat, Crowley relocated himself from his patch of sunlight to Aziraphale’s lap, once again ignoring any pretense of being polite to make himself comfortable. The person Aziraphale had been talking with joked that Anthony J. Crowley must’ve been feeling jealous, laughing when he looked at them and let out an especially peeved meow. Crowley moved up to Aziraphale’s shoulder later, receiving only a sigh and a gentle reminder to mind the claws on the coat in response.

Aziraphale went out to the shops again, this time just popping around the corner, to get some food for the two of them. He was somewhat relieved to find Crowley still in feline form, but had still been hoping to see his old friend’s usual shape again. After a light meal of sushi for the angel and cooked fish for the cat, Aziraphale settled in to read again. Before he could even pick up his book, Aziraphale found himself with a lap full of cat insisting on being pet.

“Oh alright then. This better not become a habit with you, I would like to be able to read again at some point.” Aziraphale briefly lifted Crowley up, ignoring the indignant yowl he received, kicked off his shoes, and brought his feet up onto the couch so he could stretch out his legs. Crowley was returned to his lap to make himself comfortable and opted to ignore the extra space to instead curl up right up against Aziraphale. In the comfort of the shop, with a purring ball of fur in his lap, Aziraphale let himself drift off to sleep.


	4. Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with minor violence, it comes up after "As the man raised the gun, Crowley flew off of Aziraphale’s shoulder..."

“CAW CAW!”

Aziraphale jumped awake, nearly falling off the couch. He instinctively went to grab Crowley but there was no cat in his lap. Instead, there was a crow sitting on the back of the couch, looking at him with a remarkably smug expression.

“Crowley?”

“Caw!”

“Oh sweet mercy.” Aziraphale rubbed his hands over his face, letting the new situation sink in as he oriented himself into a more comfortable position on the couch where he could look at the corvid. “I realize I should have asked this sooner, but this _is_ your doing, right? You haven’t been mysteriously cursed to change into different animals, have you?”

“Caw!” Crowley shook his head, moving his body back and forth a little and fluffing his feathers.

“Alright. I do hope you’re back to yourself soon, I miss being able to talk with you normally. Though I will say,” he added, reaching up to gently stroke the feathers under Crowley’s chin, “It’s not the worst form you could have taken. Don’t let that give you any ideas,” He fixed Crowley with a stern look. “Tell you what, why don’t we go out today? I think I’ve spent too much time running the shop. We can go to the park and you can bother the pigeons.”

“Caw caw!” Crowley flapped excitedly. He flew over to the front desk and hopped around as he watched Aziraphale close the blinds and get ready to head out.

“Ready?” Aziraphale smiled when Crowley swooped up to his shoulder, letting him get settled before heading out onto the London sidewalks. They got more than their fair share of double-takes but, as is usual in a large, busy city, no one bothered to question them or even give more than a passing side-eye.

Aziraphale picked up some popcorn and strawberries on the way and sat on their usual bench to share the snacks with Crowley. Rather than sitting in unusual silence, and with a disregard for what others might think, Aziraphale chatted with Crowley, getting various caws and clicks in response. It did make him feel more like he was actually talking _with_ Crowley rather than _at_ him, but it still wasn’t quite the same.

“You know, I’ve thought about changing my shape,” Aziraphale admitted. “I wonder sometimes if I’ve gotten too used to the same things. After all, I’ve had the same coat for almost two-hundred years, and the same hair since, well, always. When we traded places, I thought it would feel more different than it did. Now that I think about it, though, I suppose it makes sense that it still felt familiar. After all,” He stroked Crowley’s head, “No matter how much you’ve changed, you’re still you; you’re familiar to me. But who knows, maybe one day you’ll come by the shop and find a turtle in my chair.” Crowley gently nipped at Aziraphale’s fingers, cawing with a disapproving tone. “No good? I’ll think of something else then. Perhaps another bird, I do miss flying sometimes. We could take a flight together, soar over the London skies; or maybe drive down to the countryside and rent a cottage for the week, get some fresh air and get away from the crowds. I hear South Downs is lovely. What do you think?” Crowley ran his beak through Aziraphale’s hair, like he was preening him, and accepted another bite of strawberry.

They stayed out all day, heading back to the shop when it started to get dark. Aziraphale was still talking to Crowley and didn’t notice the darkly dressed figure lurking in the doorway of the shop until they stepped out and Crowley cawed angrily at them.

“Oh, hello. Lovely evening we’re having.”

“You Mr. Fell?”

“Pardon?”

“This your place?”

“Yes I run this shop, but I’m afraid we’re closed for the night. If there’s a particular book you’re looking for-“

“I’m not here about your books, Mr. Fell. I’m here on behalf of my employer, a man who’s very interested in this particular piece of property.”

“Ah, I see, you’re another one of those mafia hooligans aren’t you? Well you can tell your employer the same thing I’ve told all the others: I run a legitimate business, and I have no interest in selling. Good night.” Aziraphale started to walk around but stopped when the man pulled out a gun.

“I wasn’t sent here to negotiate, Mr. Fell, I was sent to get results.”

Crowley let out an ominous rattling noise, raising his wings menacingly.

“Better call off your pet, don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”

“He’s not my pet, and I’m afraid he has a mind of his own.”

“Either you quiet him or I will, your choice.”

“Now see here,” Aziraphale raised a hand to rest protectively on Crowley’s back, “I’ve tried to be cordial with you but this has gone far enough. I’ve given you my final answer, I believe it’s time for you to leave.”

“Suit yourself.”

As the man raised the gun, Crowley flew off of Aziraphale’s shoulder, and then there was a large, black, wolf-like dog standing in front of the angel, growling at the mafioso.

“What the fuck!?” Startled, the man didn’t have time to react before he was tackled to the ground.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was frozen, unsure what to do. He could only watch as Crowley snapped at the man, barely held back. There was a flash of the gun moving, and Crowley’s snarls cut off with a yelp.

In the next moment, Crowley and Aziraphale were in the back room of the shop, and Aziraphale was summoning towels and a first aid kit. He pressed one of the towels to the wound in Crowley’s side, whispering apologies when Crowley whined. When he pulled the towel away, he could see that the bullet had only managed to graze Crowley’s side, with no penetration.

“I’m going to have to stitch this up,” He told Crowley softly, “I would just heal it but I fear that much holy power would do you more harm than good. I’ll try to make sure you don’t feel any pain.” He gently stroked Crowley’s fur with a shaking hand, “You were very brave, my dear. You’re going to be alright.”


	5. Memories and Eternity

Aziraphale was able to get the wound cleaned up and stitched in short work, giving Crowley something to help him sleep without pain. He knew Crowley would be able to heal himself once he’d gotten his strength back but didn’t want to risk any complications. Using towels and blankets, he was able to give Crowley some cushioning without jostling him too much.

As he was cleaning up the towels and the medical supplies, the light glinted off of something under the coffee table. It was the bottle of rum they’d shared the night before Crowley had started acting strange. Staring at it, Aziraphale found a hazy memory of a conversation coming back to him.

_“You know,” He was saying, pouring another glass of wine for each of them, “I’ve just realized something very big. We saved the world.”_

_“We did,” Crowley agreed._

_“And,” Azirphale continued, “Neither of us are working under the directive of Heaven or Hell anymore.”_

_“We’re not,” Crowley agreed again, lifting he glass in a partial toast._

_“Which means: this is it.”_

_“What is what?”_

_“This, Earth, is our rest of our lives. It’s our -oh what did you say eleven years ago- our eternity!”_

_“I s’pose it is.” Crowley looked around the shop. “A lot better than_ Sound of Music _for sure.”_

_“Are you not worried that eternity could start to get dull?”_

_“Not to me. Not if it’s with you.”_

_“Crowley?”_

_“Aziraphale,” Crowley leaned forward, swaying a little as he looked Aziraphale in the eyes, “There’s a whole world of humanity out there, and we get to experience all of it together, with no more fear. Tell me that sounds dull.”_

_“Together?”_

_“Together, Angel.”_

In the morning, Crowley woke up slowly, mentally shrugging off the last of the drugs. Aziraphale was sitting on the floor beside him, leaning against the couch as he stroked Crowley’s head, apparently unaware he was awake until Crowley licked his hand.

“Oh! Good morning, feeling better?” Crowley wagged his tail, nosing at Aziraphale’s hand for him to keep petting. The tail wagging got harder when Aziraphale scratched behind his ears. “There’s something I wanted to ask you, but I don’t know if I should wait until you’re able to respond.” Crowley moved his head to rest in Aziraphale’s lap, looking up at him with yellow eyes. “Did you mean what you said the other night, about eternity? Could we really spend it together?” Aziraphale pulled his hands back as Crowley rolled to sit up, staring at him. “It’s just…I don’t think I ever gave you an answer and I need to know if you really meant it or not because I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think I want that.” He stared down at his hands in his lap. “I want that, Crowley, I want eternity…with you.”

Two slender hands covered Aziraphale’s, and he looked up into an ever familiar pair of reptilian eyes. “I meant it,” Crowley promised, “Every word.”

The bookshop of one A.Z. Fell had never had consistent hours, but anyone who was paying attention would have noticed that it tended to be open even less frequently during the nicer months when one might be particularly inclined to travel to the countryside. During those same months, in South Downs, people who noticed that sort of thing may have started to see a crow and a turtledove roosting together in a tree outside of a cottage that had recently been sold to a couple from London.

And as for the mafia, rumors of a member going missing after an encounter with a witch and his shapeshifting familiar kept even the most skeptical away, especially after the man was never seen again.


End file.
